I am not sure why God made me this way. So different, alone in my head. There really isn’t anyone to talk to. I have no friends that I can tell what I am feeling. I don’t like the darkness and it seems like there is darkness all around me. Why do they force me to do things I don’t want to do? There is something wrong with me, I know there is. I see and hear things.

I sense things coming and when bad things are going to happen. But my family think I am stupid so I can’t tell them these things. I get so scared to sleep because I know he will come and visit me in my dreams. I saw dragons last night and devils with long tails. They chase me, always so fast that sometimes I cannot breathe. I scream and scream but not one came to save me. God why don’t you take it away from me. I am not a bad girl.

Please God make them love me, and I promise I will be good.

Teen years.

I love him so much. No one told me what a kiss would feel like. Strange and beautiful. My heart beat so fast, to the music playing in the background while we danced. Just 16 years old and my life had changed for ever. We walked hand in hand and met his friends at his school. He was so proud of me. But I did not know anything about boys besides he was the most handsome boy on this earth. Blonde, blue eyes and a fantastic kisser. My new romance was soon to end as it was time to return home from holiday. We promised to write and meet again very soon.

I never heard from him again. His letters were kept from me. My heart is ripping apart. I love him and he loves me.

Goodnight God. I am so sad. Please please please take away my pain. I can’t cry any more. It hurts so much.

( Writers note: Garbrielles teen years were filled with much sadness and sorrow. She never experienced the joyful memories of friends and experiences that she can share or talk about in her adult life. She suffered much depression, anger, sadness, and overwhelming fear or rejection and loneliness. Friendships were very hard for her to make and still are. Her social life and career suffered tremedously until present day)

There are many entries in her diary about the sadness she suffered and how life was sometimes so difficult for her she wanted to leave this world. But she doesn’t want to rehash the past as those things are gone now. It is only the secrets she wants out and exposed so she can let go.

Since the beginning of time, there has never been another person like me Nobody has my smile nobody has my eyes, my nose, my hands, my voice. I’m special.

No one can be found who has my handwriting. Nobody anywhere has my tastes – for food or music or art. No one sees things just as I do.

In all of time there’s been no one who laughs like me, no one who cries like me. And what makes me laugh and cry will never provoke identical laughter and tears from anybody else, ever.

No one reacts to any situation just as I would react. I’m special.

I’m the only one in all of creation who has my set of abilities. Oh, there will always be somebody who is better at one of the things I’m good at, but no one in the universe can reach the quality of my combination of talents, ideas, abilities and feelings. Like a roomful of musical instruments, some may excel alone, but none can match the symphony sound when all are played together. I’m a symphony.

Through all of eternity no one will ever look, talk, think or do like me. I’m rare.

And, in all rarity there is great value.

Because of my great rare value, I need not attempt to imitate others I will accept – yes, celebrate – my differences.

I’m special. And I’m beginning to realize it’s no accident that I’m special. I’m beginning to see that God made me special for a very special purpose. He must have a job for me that no one else can do as well as I. Out of all the billions of applicants, only one is qualified, only one has the right combination of what it takes.

That one is me. Because . . . I’m special.

( I was given a copy of this a long time ago and want to share it with all those who doubt there is a purpose for all their life. We may not always see it, but we are all special in our own way)

Im sorry to have to tell you that Gabirelle’ story has triggered some past emotions. She is finding it quite difficult to put her story into text. Over the past few days she decided that it was no longer possible to tell her story. She is struggling with writing about people and certain incidents that she wants to speak out about but not sure how to, so as not to speak badly about people, some of who still play a part in her life. And not to bring up from the past which has already been put to rest.

We have tossed a few ideas about and come up with the idea that excerpts from her journal might be a better way to get what she needs to say out. There are no names, or places, just her thoughts, emotions and struggles from good days and the bad.

So once again bare with us and allow this inspirational story to unfold. I say inspirational as I have found her story to be one of absolute courage and hope. That no matter what we have been through there is always hope.

It is a bit hard to move on from childhood hurts. So many people tell you, just forget or get over it. I guess this is all true. If only it was that easy. I realise that as an adult we choose how to react to these hurtful things in the past but there is a self discovery I have made.

I am not a machine, I have a heart with feelings and emotions that have been scared, “Sticks and stones will break my bones and words WILL hurt me”. Yes words that have torn me down all my life. Continuous, hurtful, degrading, mean, words that caused my life to spiral into directions that never should have happened. My ethnicity, my inability to form friendships, just not being able to hold a conversation. I did not have an opinion because I was never allowed to have one let alone speak unless spoken to.

So as you can see without all the drawn out details of my childhood traumas, I have come out with scars that have consequently effected my teenage years and adulthood. Relationships were built on guess work. I did not know anything about the opposite sex as it was left blank in my education and home. So basically I believed what ever was I told. My first relationship at age eighteen was a violent one. This experience was one of the most difficult I have ever faced. I was a young woman who thought this was it, my life was beginning finally, it was love, there would be marriage and children.

But there was a darkness within me. I did not want the relationships I saw around me. The loveless, emotionless, painful marriages that were held together because of children. Why do parents do this, and put their children through so much pain and agony. You are not making their lives complete by staying married. If anything I learned the worthlessness of marriage. I mean I understand the concept, but really, its filled with lies and deceit. Every relationship since, and this is I only realised as I got older, I would cause to break up. I would find fault, and instigate tension. Mind you, every man I was with loved me and wanted to marry me but there was something that just pushed me into the corners of wanting to be unhappy. Happiness was never meant for me. I would push so hard that they would eventually leave and think it just wasn’t working.

This is the true account and excerpts of a womans life. She has asked that certain facts be changed like her name and personal details so as to protect her family and friends. I am not a writer, so please discount the numerous errors you will find these writings. So here it begins.

Shadows of Me..

Hi my name is Gabrielle, im not sure how to begin but the desire to tell my story has been a long time coming. It is not to gain recognition or have anyone feel sorry for me or offer advice. I just want to let out the hidden hurts, the secrets of who I am and be free knowing that there is no longer any reason for me to feel prisoner in a world of silence that has consumed me since I was a little girl. I may go off track and you may get lost along the way of which stage I am at in my life but the truth is I just have to let it out.

It is hard to pinpoint what the real issue is with me. Is it the lack of feeling love, we’ll maybe it’s not really knowing what love feels like. To love or be loved, both fall in the same category for me. My childhood, from an early age is blank. I have glimpses of memories that have stayed with me for reasons I am not sure of. Then there is a gap, a span of years that have been lost. Even in my adult years from about 18 onwards I have massive blank spaces in my life. I do not recall a trauma as such that could erase such a huge part of my life. But through much research, trauma is a major contributor of memory loss, so i assume that is what has happened to me.

What did I do to feel loved. I stole, lied, made believe and told fantasy stories just to fit in. Reality for me was not a world I wanted to live in. I was a prisoner in my mind, my body, around my family and friends. There was only silence. Shadows of who I was. Who am I?
I am a Shadow! A shadow of other peoples personalities. What you liked, I liked. I became who ever you wanted me to be.

I was taught as young as ten to lie. Because if you told the truth you would get hurt. The truth is suppose to be a good thing, or so I was thought. But I soon learnt that emotional truth such as feelings or joy was not the truth that was expected. The beatings were sometimes so harsh, i just wanted to die, because they were not just physical but emotional. “you are evil, you are trash, you are stupic, you are dumb, you are worthless”, and it went on and on. I mean seriously, I was a kid. How could I be any of those things?
I remember praying to this God i was told to believe in to please let me just be happy. Every night I cried as a little girl filled with fear of what tomorrow would bring. This fear resulted in me wetting the bed till I was in my teens. This too I had to hide because the embarrassment would have been made public to all the family so as to put fear into me to not do it anymore. Well guess what, it didn’t work.
I was a sad, lonely, afraid, and completely alone little girl. There was no friend or confidant for me to beg for help. I mean he saw it, but he closed his eyes to it all. He justified it in way I still don’t understand. Why didn’t he protect his little girl?